


Depth of a Loch

by Feral_Female



Category: Torchwood
Genre: AU, Gay Sex, M/M, Monsters, Romance, Violence, bashing, vengeance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-12-20 22:30:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11930631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feral_Female/pseuds/Feral_Female
Summary: Time. It’s the one thing that Captain Jack Harkness has plenty of. Patience, on the other hand… well, let’s just say he’s finding it difficult to bide all that time he has in abundance.Things are strained, and rightfully so, given the harsh and hurtful things revealed to Ianto by Gwen. Both men want nothing more than to work past the dark secrets haunting them and get back to where they were, but the path to reconciliation is harder for our beloved factotum than it is for our dashing captain. What could be better for lovers in need of solitude and healing than the lush and beautiful Scottish landscape?This tale picks up a few weeks after “Love Thy Neighbor”. “Depth of a Loch” is a gently paced story of two men in love battling through something ghastly while examining who they really are and what they need from each other, so those looking for lots of explosions or squicky aliens will have to wait for the next tale. Sorry. Not really.My posting schedule will remain Monday and Thursday for a bit longer.





	1. Depth of a Loch - Chapter One - Anticipation

**Depth of a Loch**

**Chapter One**

**Anticipation**

**Ianto**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

There’s an odd sort of thing that happens when you fall in love. Your senses heighten. Sight, smell, touch, taste, and hearing all seem to become stronger when the person you adore is in the room. Hell, in my case, Jack can step through the front door and my body reacts back here in the bedroom. Sometimes wantonly…many times wantonly, but other times with a suffusion of warmth and contentment. That was how it had been for ages. The rush of anticipation of seeing him, hearing him, touching, tasting, and smelling him. God, the smell and taste of the man…

Perhaps all those reactions are just me though. Or maybe it’s just this way with Jack. I adored Lisa. Loved her beyond reason and common sense but she never affected me as Jack does. My mum always said I gave my heart too easily and loved too deeply too quickly. Mum said a lot of things. She still was prone to saying things to me.

“Ianto, are you still there? Did we lose the connection?”

I shook off the meander my mind had gone on and laid another of Jack’s shirts into his suit case.

“No, I’m still here,” I assured her. “Just busy packing.”

“You travel quite a bit for a civil servant, Ianto. I hope the crown is repaying you for all the money you spend on airline tickets.”

Phone pinned between ear and shoulder, I continued adding clean clothes to Jack’s already filled bag. Damn extra coats of his took up so much bloody room.

“My boss is driving,” I replied, my mind wandering to other things and concerns. Like if my boss and I could ever find our way back to each other emotionally and sexually. We’d not been intimate since Gwen’s little admission. That was a bit worrisome. Jack was keeping himself on a tight leash, as was I. As much as I yearned for him, sex would cloud things. Or would it? Maybe we needed to reconnect in bed and then start working on the other problems. Who knows? My mind was a muddle of confusion.

“When are you coming back?”

Mum’s voice in my ear startled me, that was how lost I had been in myself. “A week, maybe ten days. Why?”

She huffed in aggravation. I flipped the suitcase shut. “What have I been telling you for the past five minutes, Ianto?”

I hadn’t a clue.

“Something about the church?”

“No, Ianto, I was telling you about the box of my father’s trinkets I gathered up for you when I was cleaning the attic.”

“Yes, right, the trinkets.” I zipped Jack’s bag, straightened, and felt him on the air currents. His scent and the sound of his big boots coming down the hall reached me a few seconds later. When he rounded the door, his smile was bright and his eyes sparkling. I couldn’t stop my lips from curling into a smile upon seeing him. So handsome, so sexy, so eager to fix ‘us’ because he loved me like no other. But did he truly? Damn Gwen. She could have taken her secrets to the grave with her. Should have. I hated wondering if I was really Jack’s second choice. How was I supposed to get past the doubts? “As soon as I get back from Scotland, I’ll dash over and get them.”

“You could stay and visit. Maybe bring your sister with you? She never rings or visits anymore.”

I rolled my eyes and mouthed ‘Mum” to him.

“Ah,” he murmured then eyed the overflowing bags on the bed with an arched eyebrow.

“I’ll talk to Rhiannon and maybe we can do lunch,” I told her while he moved around my bedroom then threw himself to the bed. The suitcases bounced and several items of clothing fell out. His wink was pure imp.

“Lunch with you and Rhiannon sounds glorious.” I picked up a pair of his socks and flung them at him. They bounced off his fat head. I snorted then quickly gathered myself before Mum asked what I was sniggering about and I had to say that my lover/boss was being a bit of a scamp. Mum had no clue about my sexuality and less of a clue that I had been sleeping with my boss for well over a year. I’d not one idea how to even broach the subject with her. Telling my sister had been agonizing enough.

“Good. I’ll get all them gathered up. Lots of tie pins, cuff links… that sort of tut. Oh, and a broken stop watch. I know how you like those. Perhaps a jeweler can fix it up? The lids jammed and won’t open.”

“Right, yes, I’ll get it fixed up.” Jack crossed his ankles and gave me one of his patented ‘Would you get a move on?’ looks. He was not a man that liked to be kept waiting. “I have to go meet my boss for our business trip.” The ball of socks hit me in the face. My glower should have turned Jack to dust. “I’ll call when we get back. Bye, Mum.”

“When are you going to tell her about you and me?” Jack enquired casually. I grabbed the socks and whipped them into his suit case. “Ianto?”

“It’s not all that easy.” I shoved my phone into the back pocket of my jeans. “Not everyone can be as forthright as you.”

“Yes, they can be. You just sit her down and say ‘Mum, I’m madly in love with my boss and he feels the same way about me.” He pushed up off the bed and looked at me in that quirky way of his.

“She’d stroke out.”

“I doubt it.” He cupped my face with a warm hand. “It’s not healthy to hide who you are. It’s just another stress that you don’t need. Think about coming out to her. Everyone else knows.”

I closed my eyes and drank in his touch. “I’ll think on it. Are we free?” I had to break the contact before I was all over him. So, I stepped back and turned my back to him. His exhalation was loud and quite Jack.

“Free as we’re ever going to be. Are you sure you packed enough?”

“It’s your coats,” I said, gathering my keys, wallet, stop watch, and a pack of gum from the stand. “They’re bulky.”

“But they look so _damn_ good on me.” That was true, they did. He nudged me with a hip then lifted his large bag from the bed. “Make your last round and then meet me by the car.”

“Right.” He grabbed my case and headed off, the soft rustle of his greatcoat filling the silent flat. Pulling on a light tan jacket, I checked the windows, kettle, and coffee pot. Then I locked up and jogged down to meet Jack. He’d tossed our bags into the tiny trunk and was leaning on the black fender of his Austin Healey convertible patiently, arms folded, pleasure playing on his lips.

“Everything copasetic?” he asked.

I reached into the pocket of my jacket and withdrew my present for him. One eyebrow climbed up his forehead.

“What’s this?” He flipped the CD over. A grin broke out, one of those matinee idol ones that always made me feel dimwitted and flustered. “The Best of the 40’s.”

“I thought you’d want something to listen to since your collection is gone.”

“Yeah, Owen did a number on them. Thank you.” He took my chin and led my lips to his. I instinctually leaned in to get a deeper taste. Jack made a low sound deep in his throat then gently broke the kiss. “I miss kissing you until you’re trembling and begging for more.”

“I miss that too,” I confessed. That and _so_ much more.

“Good to hear.” He ran this thumb over my bottom lip then his hand fell away. “Let’s get rolling. It takes about seven hours to get to Glasgow then we have to track Archie down.”

“Leaving the top down then, are we?” I slid into the passenger side.

“Until we’re frozen to the seats,” he replied before jogging around to fold himself into the tiny but rambunctious sports car. Once he was seated, he slipped the new CD in and gave me one of the deepest looks I’d ever seen. “All kidding aside, Ianto, this trip is going to be good for us, don’t you think?”

“I do, yes.”

“Good, me too.” He slapped the steering wheel playfully as ‘All Alone’ sang by Connie Boswell began to play and then cranked the engine over. The car purred like a leopard. I hunkered down into my jacket, buckled the recently installed seat belts, and wondered how long it would take before we were frozen to the seats.

The answer was not long. About forty minutes in he glanced over. “You look cold.”

“You could say that,” I replied through chattering teeth.

“Do you want my coat?”

“No, I’d like the roof up and the heater on.”

“I can think of better ways to warm you up,” he said as we rounded a sharp bend, the new tires hugging the road tightly.

“There’s no back seat,” I pointed out then shuddered.

“True, but I have a coat we could throw down behind a bush along the road. Guaranteed within five minutes you’ll be toasty warm.”

“Smug bastard,” I muttered which got a sound chuckle from him. I threw him a quick look, just so I could enjoy the sight of Jack Harkness behind the wheel, smiling as the wind raked through his hair. “Okay, I’ll give you that one,” I confessed because it was true. Probably take less than five minutes to be frank.

“I knew you would. You’re nothing if not honest. And sexy. Let’s not forget that.”

Despite his teasing, the roof was soon up and the heat was blowing in my face and up my pant leg. My blue balls appreciated the heat. Jack prattled on as we rode. He liked to jabber when he drove long distances, I’d learned that from our trip to the Bog all those months ago.

“… then there was the time I found myself in a cave with several lonely Montesian well guardians. They were _really_ happy to see me. Reckon a human man was a rarity in that neck of the woods.”

“Would you tell me more about your first meeting with the Doctor? It feels as if you skirted something when you told me originally. Did you?” I turned the volume down on the CD, muting Nat King Cole but not eliminating him.

Jack glanced at me. I saw the brief shuttering of his blue eyes.

“You realize that was in the past. My past is…what I do now is what’s important.”

“Jack, I know that you were a bit shady in your younger days.”

He snorted then returned to watching the road. “Shady. That’s one way to describe it. Some of the things that John, Geirr, and I did…well, I’m not proud of those days.”

“We all have things in our past that bring us shame.” I placed my hand to his leg, the powerful thigh muscle twitched at my touch.

“Keep that in mind as these dark tales come to the surface. Remind yourself that you love monsters.” His gaze darted to mine then went back to the highway.

“There’s nothing you could tell me that would make me love you less, Jack.”

His lips fluttered up into a strained smile. “Time will tell,” he sighed and then began talking. I sat on his left, listening, absorbing, tucking each detail into my clingy mind, my palm on his thigh.

“So, I almost unleashed a plague that could have rewritten the DNA of every human on earth.”

We both fell into silence. I could sense his disgrace. “Did you know that I hid a Cyberwoman in the basement?”

His eyebrows knotted. “Uh, yeah, I knew that. Thought you broke my jaw when you punched me. Why are we…”

“Because I could have ended human life as we know it. One bad decision. That could have been it for humanity. If not for you and the others, it probably would have been. I’d not have been able to kill Lisa.” That admission was painful but necessary.

“That’s different. You were in love with --”

I shook my head then squeezed his leg gently. “No, it’s no different. The reasons we make bad choices don’t matter. What matters is that we discover things from them, we turn those mistakes into learning experiences. We change. We become better people. You’ve done that. So many damn times it’s been you standing in front of the end of times, sacrificing yourself, atoning for your past.” I looked at the dash when we drifted off the road. “We low on petrol?”

“No, I just really want to kiss you hard. Is that okay?”

“Oh. Yes, it’s quite good.” It was me who leaned into him, pressed my lips to his, and then lapped at the corner of his mouth to see if he would respond as he had before. He did, and with just as much passion as ever. My grip on his leg tightened as his tongue slipped over mine.

A car passing hit its horn.

“Jealous petty people,” Jack murmured across my damp lips. “This will be continued once we get to our hotel. Right?”

“Yes. Right. Of course.” Another car flew past and hit their horn. He sighed as if my reply were manna and stole another soft kiss. “Let’s talk about something that can in no way be twisted around to be sexual.”

I wiggled back around to face front. “Is there such a thing where you’re concerned?”

“Not to my knowledge, but if anyone can find something to stump me, it’ll be you.”

He was _so_ smooth. Glasgow and our hotel room seemed a world away. “Maybe you could drive a bit faster?”

His grin was part movie idol, part porn star, and wholly intoxicating.

 

 

**To be continued…**


	2. Depth of a Loch - Chapter Two - Drinks and a Show

**Depth of a Loch**

**Chapter Two**

**Drinks and a Show**

**Jack**

 

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

It was hard to decide which was more eye-appealing, the city of Glasgow or the man seated beside me. Both had incredible beauty and warmth. We’d made the trip at our leisure, stopping along the way to eat or idle away a few hours at a rustic antique shop or a dusty bookstore. Ianto loved such things as poking around in antiquity or reading tomes four times his age. Me? While I enjoyed reading and looking at brass candelabras and beveled mirrors as much as the next man, I preferred to be doing something. _Anything_. Shopping was not one of my preferred pastimes. It was a necessity to keep your ass covered and your stomach filled.

But, this trip was for Ianto and not for me. This time away from the Hub and that dangerous, insane existence was to show him that he had been and always would be the most important person in my life. So, if that meant standing in the corner smiling at his exuberance over finding a rare collection of poems by Yeats, to trying to find room in the already packed trunk for an oil painting of a Scottish countryside, or being read poems from the previously mentioned collection for two straight hours then that was what I would do. I’d come too close to losing him too many times. I would not allow that to happen again. This was Jack Harkness putting everything he was and would be out there despite the anxiety and fear doing so was churning up inside me.

All that time spent browsing meant we were crossing the River Clyde at night, the Clyde Arc illuminated in rainbow colors.

“Are we here during Pride month?”

Ianto lowered his book of poetry, stopping right in the middle of reading “A Coat”, and gave the arch a long look.

“That would be amazing,” he replied then removed the small reading lamp attached to the book and closed the tome. “Sorry for boring you. You should have said something when I kept reading.”

“I love hearing you read those poems.” I glanced over. His expression told me he didn’t quite believe me. “I do. You lose yourself in the words. The passion that you bury deep inside is released. It’s amazing and erotic.”

“You do that to me as well,” he admitted while we cruised by the arc and turned off to enter the Clyde Waterfront area. “You release the passion in me.”

There were no words coming to me. Nothing that would capture how tangled up and giddy those kinds of confessions from him made me. _Come on, Jack, say something you idiot._

“Yeats and Tennyson will be jealous,” I replied as traffic slowed. I chanced a peek and was immediately lost in the look of love on his face. It was so profound that my senses jumbled and my foot slid off the brake. We lurched forward, nearly rear-ending the car in front of us.

“Dammit,” I mumbled and stomped on the brake.

“Having trouble remembering how to operate a vehicle, sir?”

I slowly turned my head. Our gazes locked. There was no mistaking that he had used that word in that soft, submissive way on purpose. My cock instantly responded.

“Call me that again and we’re going right to the hotel and to hell with Archie.”

“I _am_ rather tired from that long drive,” he replied, smoky blue eyes holding mine. “Sir.”

“Okay, screw this. Archie can wait.” I jumped out of my lane and wheeled my zippy little baby down a small alley then took a hard right.

My phone rang. We both gave it a startled look. It had been amazingly quiet all day. Probably because before I had left the Hub I had told Owen, Tosh, Martha, and Gwen that unless the world were on the brink of annihilation at the hands of slimy aliens I was not – _NOT_ – to be called. It killed me to say that and then walk away. I have some control issues, I freely admit that.

Ianto slid the cell out of the pocket of my coat which was still hanging over the back of my seat.

“Archie,” he said after reading the callers ID.

“He’s probably wondering where we are.”

“Shall I answer it then?”

I almost reached up to tap my Bluetooth then realized that I wasn’t wearing it. “Yeah, tell him we’ve just crossed the bridge. Or you can tell him that we’re exhausted from the drive and will contact him in the morning.” We pulled up to a red light. “The choice is yours.”

He took the call. “Hello Archie, Ianto Jones here. Yes, we’re running a bit late and Jack’s rather done in from the drive. Can we meet tomorrow? I… ah, well, no I suppose we can sneak in for a quick ale at the pub. Oh, you’re off tomorrow to fetch your granddaughter in London then? I see. Yes, of course we’ll be there in a bit. The Blue Pig. Right, No, we’ll find it with GPS. See you shortly.” He ended the call.” Sorry, I know we were hoping for something else but…”

I waved off his apology. “It’s fine. He’s been waiting for us all day. Guess we can shelve the bed play for another hour or two.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” Ianto sighed theatrically. How much did _that_ stroke my ego? A lot. It had been weeks since I’d seen that level of hard core want pumping through him. I still had plans for him when we got to our room. Plans that included me, him, and lots of that control I so liked to have and that he so enjoyed giving. I needed to stop thinking about beds and Ianto slicked up and writhing with want or I’d never be able to get out of the car at the pub.

“Read me more Yeats.”

He did, and by the time we were parked in front of The Blue Pig, my erection was gone. The pub was a true boozer, filled with common folk letting off steam. Archie saw us pushing through the crowd of laborers and dock workers. No suits and ties here. He pushed to his feet and gave us a wobbly wave.

“He’s a bit of tall, isn’t he?” Ianto shouted over the juke box and loud hum of conversation.

That he was. Tall, ginger, mid-fifties, and more than a wee bit odd. Old Tartan Archie was how I’d first come to know the eccentric, gangly Scot who ran Torchwood Two. We’d been in contact many times over the years – and worked together on occasion - as one of the two of us liked to attend to the task on the equinox. Usually we’d end up arguing over who got to do it and the only resolution came when we’d play a game of online Scrabble to determine the winner. I’d beaten him soundly a month ago with the word ‘quetzels’ which got me a score of 374. And they think I’m just a pretty face…

“Knew that bloody coat a mile away,” Archie said and slapped his hand into mine. His grip was strong as a bear trap.

“Good to see you, Archie. This is Ianto Jones, my newest agent.” The man towered over me. He was lanky and freckled which made him appear cute in that way redheads do, but he was deadly lethal when required. He ran Torchwood Two well if not entirely differently than I ran Torchwood Three, but his results and commendations couldn’t be overlooked.

“Oh, aye, I know of the lad.” He pumped my hand four times, dropped it, and then latched onto Ianto’s outstretched hand. “Got a good mind he does, good with office fiddles, and makes a braw cup of coffee. Rumor is he’s taking it up the bahooky from you, Jack. Always did have an eye for the pretty lads and lasses!”

“I think I shall die now,” Ianto groaned at the odd looks from a table filled with half-drunken dock workers.

“Why don’t we have a seat?” I swept around the table, using my body to get Ianto and his flaming face away from Archie, who it seemed had spent his hours waiting for us here in this pub. Hopefully he’d not been talking work with the locals. He tended to get rather chatty when drunk.

“So, Jack,” Archie grinned then fell out of his chair. Ianto quickly got him back in his seat. “That’s a good lad you got here, Jack.”

“I think so. Tell me, Archie, how are things here? We haven’t heard much from your branch.” A skinny young woman with bright green hair arrived, placed a bottle of scotch and three shot glasses on the table, and then gave me a wink.

“Pffftttt,” the head of Torchwood Two blew raspberries at my question. Ianto grimaced at the spittle hitting him in the face. “Work talk sucks a cock! Let’s talk about why you’re here. There you go lass, and keep the bottles coming until I’m ready to boke.”

“This is entertaining,” Ianto grumbled while dabbing at his cheek with his neatly folded handkerchief. It kind of _was_ amusing, but I tried not to let that show. “To think I gave up taking it up the bahooky to come do this…”

That one got me. My lover gave my snicker a dark look. Things got even more colorful as the next hour or two unfolded. Archie did indeed get to the point of a good boke and vomited all over his tartan kilt. Ianto and I had nursed our shots of scotch, and had managed to keep him from talking about his job or our jobs.

“He’s rather hard to steer,” Ianto grunted as we each took an arm and left the pub behind, Archie draped over us like a two-dollar cigar habit. “Think we can get him to the underside of the SSE Hydro unnoticed?”

“How do you know that’s where Torchwood Two is located?” A trio of rowdy men about Ianto’s age ran past us.

“I know everything about Torchwood.”

I loved that he was so matter-of-fact about that. “Oh course,” I chuckled under my breath. How silly of me to forget. “There’s a perception filter at the artists entrance.”

“Really? I’d not found that information in the data bases.” Ianto looked around Archie’s flaming red head. The man was growing heavier with every step.

“Well, guess you _don’t_ know everything about Torchwood.”

I heard him muttering. That also amused me. It was nice to be able to joke and tease him again. Things had been so damned strained between us. That was on me, I know. If I’d just sat Gwen down months ago and had the talk…

“You cobs are chicken feed,” Archie announced then snorted, his big feet tangling up.

“Yes, yes they are,” Ianto replied as we wrangled the soused Scot around the back of the SSE Hydro. “Are we close?”

“Close,” I grunted, the sounds of a rock concert thumping through the air. The parking lot was full, and though we passed several groups of young people, none of them seemed concerned about the three of us.

We propped Archie up against the wall, Ianto steadying the big man so he didn’t go face first into the concrete. Using my wrist strap, I quickly had the hidden door to the underground base open. Ianto looked down into the depths, his hand on Archie’s chest.

“Bit of a drop,” he commented. Archie belched.

“Give it time,” I replied. We waited for the old lift to rattle and clank its way to the surface. “On we go.”

“I’m not sure this will hold us,” Ianto said, Archie now back between us. The open-sided lift bobbed and swayed when we lugged Archie onto it.

“It’s held for over a hundred and twenty years.”

“And when was it inspected last?”

“Fucking cobs!” Archie bellowed after I kicked the rusted gate closed. “Always the fucking chickens who won’t eat the cobs.”

“This night has a rather familiar feel about it,” I heard Ianto say just as the lift lurched. We then began the long descent downward, Archie hanging onto both of us, his knees rubbery and his breath atrocious.

“How about we get the lights on. You got him?” Ianto nodded and hugged Archie tightly.

“Please do not throw up down my back. I just bought these jeans and jacket.”

“Cobs! Cobs!”

I smiled at the dialog then brought up the lights. There is _nothing_ like a fully functional vortex manipulator! They’re just so damn handy.

“Wow,” Ianto whispered when Torchwood Two was fully illuminated.

“Meh,” I said as the base revealed itself.

 

**To be continued…**


	3. Depth of a Loch - Chapter Three - Taking to Wing

**Depth of a Loch**

**Chapter Three**

**Taking to Wing**

**Ianto**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

The interior of Torchwood Two was vastly different than the interior of Torchwood Three, aside from the decrepit lift system. Our secret entrance was much less rickety but other than that…

“It’s amazing,” I said as we slowly lowered to the ground level. “Everything’s so new. And look, no water to step into or mold growing every damn place.”

“It’s lacking character,” Jack replied after we hit bottom with a loud bang.

“Maybe we could redo our base sometime,” I tossed out because this place was incredible. I’d read that they’d moved the base from the waterfront to this area, and had redone everything aside from the lift. Seems Archie had thrown a good one about hanging onto the decaying elevator system since they were stripping ‘the heart of the place’ away.

“See, this is something I don’t understand about you. Up we go, Arch,” Jack took one arm and looped it around his broad shoulders, I took the other. “You love old furniture and books but drool over new office furniture. Why would we want to replace anything in the Hub with this run of the mill, Office Depot look? Our base has personality and individuality.”

“Spoken like the man who doesn’t have to scrub mold from everything on a weekly basis.”

“Cobs. Do yer dinger I’m fair puckled.” Archie listed to the left then right, taking Jack and I with him.

“If you’d stop fighting us you wouldn’t be out of breath,” Jack said. “And as for mold scrubbing, just say the word and I’ll hire a new coffee boy to scrub and tidy to free you up for field work.”

“The mold is manageable.” As if I wanted some young buck mooning over Jack all day long. Bad enough I had to put up with Gwen’s yearning looks all … _No, Ianto. Stop. Gwen is not allowed to break into this time away. Jack made his choice. You won. She’s nothing but a pathetic, jealous woman._ I really needed to work on this Gwen issue.

“God above, Archie, you reek,” Jack groaned. I had to agree. We moved past state-of-the-art computer systems that Tosh would love to fiddle with. The walls were dry and smooth, the floors bright clean tile, and every room was lit well and filled with modern furnishings. “His office is this way.”

I think Archie passed out as soon as his face hit the plump cushions on his sofa. Jack and I spent a moment trying to catch our breath.

“I’ll be honest…this is not how I pictured… our first night in Glasgow,” I panted.

“Once we get him tucked in we can get to the hotel and work on getting those pictures of your first night in Glasgow sorted out. Did you pack the ropes?”

That brought my attention from the sparkling clean windows of Archie’s office to Jack. Those blue eyes of his were smoky hot. A rush of need sped through me.

“I uh…no, I didn’t.”

“We’ll have to use your ties then,” he responded then turned to lift Archie’s feet from the floor and place them on the couch. I rushed to grab a tartan throw from the back of the sofa and toss it over the snoring Scotsman. Jack’s gaze found mine. “Someone’s in a hurry to leave. Are you sure you don’t want to run your fingers over all the new wallpaper?”

“Honestly, there are other things I’d like to run my fingers over.”

Jack didn’t reply verbally. He didn’t have to. The smoldering fire in his eyes was all the reply I needed. We doused the lights and took the modern elevator to the arena, stepping out into a fire exit stairwell. Exiting the arena was simple. Finding our hotel even more so. It was an exquisite hotel, highly recommended and starred, with a sweeping riverside terrace that looked down on the water flowing by. We were within walking distance of the Hydro Arena.

“It’s just a nice as it looked online,” I said after we had settled into our room. Soft whites and blues on the bedding and curtains, deep blue carpet, and dark wood furnishings. A small bar, free Wi-Fi, and a large TV on the wall. “Shall we order something up?”

“We’ll eat later,” Jack said from over at the slider. I nodded silently then unzipped his bag and started lifting his clothes out. “What are you doing?”

“Unpacking. We’ll be here for a few days before we head to Inverness. We can’t let our clothes stay in the bags.”

“Just get two ties out. Let the rest go until morning.” He closed the floor-length curtains then turned to find me gaping at him. “Or not?”

I caught the flicker of uncertainty move over his face. Then I dropped the trousers back into the bag, pushed it off the massive king-sized bed, and opened one of my suitcases to find two ties. Yes, I’d packed some suits. One never knows when one will be going out to dinner while on holiday. It amused me that Jack somehow knew I’d have ties. Seems we had grown to know each other rather well.

Jack flashed a wicked smile and wiggled free of his braces. I stood rooted to that spot, eyes moving over him as he peeled off his shirt then his undershirt, braces dangling and pants now resting on his hip bones. His upper body was a work of art.

“You need less clothing,” he told me but when I reached to pull off the sweater I’d worn, he lifted a hand to stop me. “Let me strip you. You just hold onto those ties, okay?”

“Yes,” I said, the word shaky and weak. He slowly walked to me and grabbed the hem of my green sweater.

“You look nervous,” he said then lifted, my arms rising as I clung to the two ties. When I was freed from the wool, my sight met his. “I don’t want you to be nervous.”

“I’m not.” That was the truth. Mostly. “I want you. Badly. As always.”

Jack cupped my face then kissed me. A soft brush of his lips across mine. I chased the kiss then edged it into something more than a chaste expression of affection. I tempted him in ways that I knew enflamed him, licking at the corner of his mouth, rubbing my body against his, pressing my erection into his. He held my face as the torment went on, never being pushy or domineering or toppy. He just kissed me until it was me pleading for more. For the release that only he could give me.

“Please fuck me,” I groaned as another searching kiss ended. He shook his head and then – finally – released my face and went to unzip my jeans.

“No, not tonight. Maybe not for many nights. We’re moving slowly, rebuilding and rekindling.” He tugged on my fly and I moaned, the sensation of that zipper moving down over my hard cock intense. Then he returned to caressing me, his fingertips finding my nipples and gently tugging on them. The ties were now balled in my hands. “Such definition,” he said when his palms moved over my chest and abdomen. “You’re still to lean, Ianto.”

“I’ll eat more tomorrow,” I murmured as the tasting and torment went on.

He nibbled along my neck, sucking hard on where it joined my shoulder. I rolled my head to the side to give him more of whatever he wanted.

Without a word, he dropped to one knee then licked a hot trail down to my navel. He slowly removed my jeans, briefs, and socks. His leisurely pace was rushing me to insanity. He pushed to his feet and took my hand, leading me purposefully to the large bed.

“Lay down.” I hurried to comply. Flat on my back I positioned myself as wantonly as I could. His gaze was hot as it moved over me, touching every inch of pale bare skin he could see. “You’re the one man, hell… probably the _only_ man that I’ve ever loved who trusted me so deeply. I’m sorry I ruined that trust, Ianto.”

He wanted to talk about that _now?_ As I was lying across the bed, arms over my head, naked as the day I’d been born, cock hard as a bloody railway spike, waiting for him to take the ties rolled tightly in my sweaty hands and tie me to the bed to free me from the crushing weight of always having to be the one in control of every _fucking_ thing? _Now_ the man wanted to talk about trust and how it had been trampled? Ugh. Sometimes I wanted to swat the bugger.

“Jack…” I groaned and let my hands fall open. The silken ties unraveled. His sight skittered upward. “Please, let’s talk about it later. Free me a bit.”

Maybe it was the pleading tone of my voice, or the way I arched suggestively off the plump mattress. Whatever the reason, I sighed in relief when he nodded, got into his bag, took out the lube, and put a knee to the bed. Excitement and lust roared through me when he lay down at my side, his fingers slickery, and his eyes intense.

“Spread your legs,” he said and I did, willingly and eagerly. The ties still rested on my hands. His touch was gentle yet I still started when his fingers slid under my balls and toyed with my hole. My eyes drifted shut. His touch was magical in so many ways. Already I felt less burdened and freer. His lips on my right nipple were soft and warm. I tried to get myself into direct contact with him, remembering only then he was still wearing his trousers.

“Jack, your pants…” I panted while he played with my entrance and suckled hungrily on my nipple.

“It’s all about you.” He then pushed into me, two long fingers that curled in just the right way. “About trust,” he purred then blew a bit of cool air over my sodden nipple. It peaked and I groaned and pumped my hips. He stroked my prostate. “Let’s say this is our second first time and I want to draw it out. Make is special. Win you back. Do you want that too?”

“God yes… ties…” I huffed, unable to string more than three words together. The way his fingers were moving inside me stole most of my language skills.

“Are fine for now.” He licked a fiery path from my chest to my lips. His tongue dove into my mouth. I met his strokes like a man possessed. The ties rested on my open palms. “Tell me when you want me to stop doing this…” he rotated those fingers inside me “… to tie you up.”

“Not now.” An orgasm was coming quickly. I could feel it in the base of my balls. “Now.”

He chuckled against my open lips. “Which is it?”

“Now.” He began to withdraw his fingers. I moaned at the loss but groaned in sheer pleasure as he took the long lengths of silk and then snugly secured me to the headboard.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

“Who’s carrying all that weight now?” His hand went back between my legs. He cupped my balls while peppering my throat with nips and kisses. “All that weight that burdens you so. I have it on my back now and I can handle it, Ianto. Tell me who has your burdens now.”

“You do. Ah!” He pressed back into me suddenly. I dug my heels into the mattress. “Thank you… the pressure, shit, God Jack…”

“Did you know a man can reach orgasm by having his partner massage his prostate?”

“No. Yes. Don’t care just… don’t stop,” I begged. He didn’t. He knew how to work me, that was obvious. In no time, I was lost to my release, hot ropes of pearly cum dotted my stomach and chest. Jack’s fingers slipped out and he lowered his head to lick my abdomen clean. Trembling and soaked in sweat, my eyes opened slowly. His blue eyes - darkened by passion and love to a deep royal blue – met mine and held them.

“I’m going to untie you but all the weight you carry will still be with me.”

“Kiss me first.”

He smiled that winning smile and my heart tightened then expanded. “Gladly.” He slanted his mouth over mine. I melted into the kiss. His hand came up to rest on my chest and every damn thing in the world was right and good again. Even when the bonds were loosened and Jack had cleaned me up the crushing weight of life was gone. That was what loving Jack did for me. It freed me in ways that most would never understand. No one had ever taken that yoke from my shoulders before, not even Lisa. Jack understood. He saw into me. His love lightened me. It gave my soul wings.

“What about you?” I asked later, my body now sated and warm under the luxurious coverings. He was puttering around in the bath, washing out the cloth he’d wiped me off with.

He peeked around the doorframe then stepped into the room, beautiful and naked. His soft cock hung down his thigh.

“What about me?” He slid under the covers. I moved toward him instinctively.

“You never came. Let me…”

“No, I’m fine. When I come the next time, I want to be buried so far into you that we can’t tell where I end and you start.”

A shudder of pleasure rippled over me. I missed him being inside me. “If you insist.”

“I do, now let’s get some sleep. You probably have an itinerary a mile long for our time here.”

“It’s not _that_ long,” I murmured then draped my arm over his stomach. I felt the laugh in his belly.

“Ah, but you _do_ have one. I knew you would.” He pressed a kiss to my brow then we simply lay there, lost and drowsy in the afterglow of sex, or at least I was. I spent several minutes staring at the way his hair swept up and swirled around his ears.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this but I see several gray hairs.” I shoved my fingers up into his damp, tousled hair.

He grunted sleepily, a playful smile pulling on his lips. “I’m surprised there are only several after the past few months.” I pushed up to rest on my elbow. He looked my way, eyes hooded with contentment and the need for rest. I began to apologize. “Do not say that you’re sorry. I’d not have had it any other way. Well…” he paused to smirk a bit. “Maybe the whole you disappearing for half a year followed immediately by my team trying to kill each other could have been skipped with no hard feelings on my part.”

“Same here to be honest.” I let my head drop down to rest on his biceps. It took only a moment or two of listening to his deep breaths to lull me into the best sleep that I’d had in months.

 

**To Be Continued…**


	4. Depth of a Loch - Chapter Four - Midnight Beckons

**Depth of a Loch**

**Chapter Four**

**Midnight Beckons**

**Jack**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

That itinerary of his was at _least_ a mile long. Maybe two. It consisted of eating out, shopping at every small and eclectic shop in Glasgow, sharing stupid jokes, and buying a doll for his niece and kilts for his nephew and my grandson. We touched and smiled, and spent the next night roaming through the pride festivities that were rolling over Glasgow.

Holding hands, we strolled along admiring the shops festooned with rainbow colors. Then, after we’d spent more of our money, I took him back to our hotel and reduced him to a whimpering, beautiful mess with just my mouth as fireworks of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet lit up the skies and our room. His skin was damp and multicolored as he plummeted over the peak. It was a sight that I would carry with me always as something beyond mere human splendor. Huh. And they call me cold-hearted. Maybe I was before him. Probably I was. Dare I credit his love and faith with changing Jack Harkness to such an extent? Who woulda thunk it?

With Archie off picking up his granddaughter for a visit we never returned to Torchwood Two. Ianto seemed to be making it a point to keep me as far from that base as possible, and I got it. As well as I knew him he knew me just as well.

It was torture not being in constant contact with my team or knowing what was happening. I’d only shared one text with Gwen this morning when he was showering. Things were fine, nothing major, just a few Weevil hunts and a run out to Butetown to investigate what turned out to be a drunken Welshman who’d spray painted himself silver for some unknown reason then went roaming the neighborhood.

On the morning of the autumnal equinox, I hustled my lazy lover along.

“Jack, be kind,” he groaned into the pillow after I ripped the covers off to reveal his smooth back and delicious ass. “I’ve just dropped off.”

“Ah, no, you dropped off about three hours ago.” I checked the watch on my right wrist. Ianto’s Christmas gift kept perfect time. “It’s now almost seven.”

“Isn’t sleeping in part of being on holiday?” Those pretty Welsh vowels were muffled by down and bed linen.

I had to rip my gaze from his buttocks before I got ideas. Okay, I already _had_ the ideas. Before I acted on them, how’s that?

“Since when do you require more than four or five hours?”

He mumbled something that got lost in the pillow. I ran a finger down his spine. He jerked wildly then flopped to his back. To be honest, that wasn’t much better. His eyes were sleepy and hooded, his jaw covered with new whiskers, and his cock was semi-erect. Across his chest were small passion marks. He rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands then blinked up at me. Carding my fingers into his knotted hair then covering his body with mine sounded good. Yep. That was what I needed to do. Sadly, a knock on the door signaled that room service had arrived.

“Ugh, I finally find a good sleep pattern and then we ruin it.” He threw his feet to the floor then shuffled to the bathroom. I patted his bare bottom as he passed. “No point in that,” he sighed with sadness. “Someone had to be a bloody early bird.”

“You’ll thank me for rousing you when you see what I’m going to show you tonight.”

“Pft.”

He closed the bathroom door. Shaking my head but smiling, I padded to the door and let the bellhop in. The morning then brightened. Outside it was unseasonably warm and dry, so we rode with the top down. It would take about three and a half hours to reach Inverness, so Ianto had plenty of time to fill me in on the local history and sights as well as poke and prod. We’d just pulled off for a leg stretch and lunch when he leaned on the fender of my car beside me and offered me a bottle of water and a sandwich. He’d ordered a light picnic and so we stood along a small dirt road, sheep on either side of us studying us over ancient stone walls, and ate.

“The last time I was here I drove straight through,” I told him as I unwrapped the neatly folded wax paper around my ham and cheese.

“Last time you didn’t have me along. I prefer to enjoy the world. Did they put mustard on that like I asked?”

“Mm-hmm.” I took a bite, chewed, and enjoyed the sharp tang of the spicy mustard and the smoke on the fat slice of ham.

“Good.” Ianto unwrapped his sandwich, tuna on dark rye with lettuce. He studied it as if he thought to wrinkle his nose but took a bite. We stood side-by-side watching sheep peering at us as a cool breeze ruffled his hair ever-so-slightly. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” I took a swig from my water bottle.

“What’s your real name?”

I looked to my right. He was chewing but his blue eyes were focused solely on me. “You don’t think Jack Harkness is my real name?”

“No. Tosh informed us that it wasn’t but wouldn’t explain why or how she knew,” he replied candidly then swallowed. “If you don’t wish to tell me, that’s fine. Well, no, it’s not fine but I’ll accept it for now. We’re not together all that long and--”

“Javic Piotr Thane.” God. It felt odd to hear that roll off my tongue. I’d not spoken my real name for well over sixty years. I studied him for a reaction. His eyes rounded just a bit as if I’d surprised him. A sheep blatted across the road.

“Really?” I nodded then popped the last bite of my sandwich into my mouth and continued staring at him. “Huh. I didn’t think you’d tell me. I mean, I thought you’d dance around the question like you always do or brush it off completely.”

“How can we build trust if I’m not honest with you. I do ask you to keep that information to yourself. You’re the only person alive who knows my real name.”

“Oh, of course.” He smiled as if I’d handed him a rare gem or a book autographed by Kipling or Longfellow. “Thank you for telling me. It’s a nice name but you'll always be Jack to me. I like your real name though. Masculine. It fits.”

“My parents thought so.” I wadded up the wax paper my sandwich had been in and turned to look at him. He was so relaxed, so happy. You could feel the contentment coming off him in warm waves of golden pleasure. It made me feel good to know that I’d made him so happy. “You have some mayo. Right there.” I pointed at the corner of his mouth. He dabbed at the area with a napkin. I shook my head. “Nope, still there. Let me get it.” I pressed my mouth to his, swiping across his plaint lips then lapping at them, taking time to flick off the dollop of mayo resting on corner of his mouth. Ianto slid a hand into my hair, pressed on the back of my head, and sealed our mouths tightly.

“I do love you,” I whispered across his lips then stepped away before things took a sexual turn. He and I were always just a brush or glance away from one dragging the other off to a broom closet. But since there weren’t any broom closets along this stretch of Scottish road…

“I love you too.” His words were softly spoken. I cupped his face for a moment and then pulled my hand away.

“So, let’s get a move on!” I clapped my hands and the sheep skittered away in fright. “We have to get to Inverness, find the hotel, do some shopping I suppose?”

“Oh, of course. I found this little book store online that has a section set aside for female poets. I’d love to try to find something by Sara Teasdale to add to my collection.”

“Okay, we’d better get rolling then.” He grabbed a fast kiss, smiled in the sultry-shy way of his, and then shoved the rest of his sandwich into his mouth like a hungry dockworker. Such a juxtaposition the man was. One minute he was chatting about a lady poet and next he was wolfing down half a sandwich in two bites.

“Right. Let me rinse off my fingers.” Okay, so maybe a dockworker wouldn’t fret over bread crumbs on his fingertips. Still, I found his ways to be endearing and entertaining. “Do stop snickering. Some of us prefer to not wipe our gummy fingers on our coats.”

I glanced down. Oh well, what do you know. There _was_ some mustard smeared along the side of my coat.

“That’s why I have you in my life. To keep my manners in check and my coat sparkling clean.”

“Two impossible tasks,” he mumbled under his breath as he dried his now clean fingers on his napkin.

“Aw, come on. Being a scamp is part of my charm. It’s why you love me so much.” I gave him a wink and a flashy smile.

“It’s a _small_ part of your charm,” he conceded before picking up my trash and heading back around to his side of the car.

“Ianto, there is nothing small about me, or have you forgotten?”  His gaze flew from pushing trash into a small bag to my face. A rosy hue warmed his cheeks. “God above I do love making you blush.”

He rolled his eyes then flopped down into his seat, muttering something in Welsh. That made me laugh aloud which only got me another salty look. I was glad we were doing this. It made me lighthearted to see him coming back to us…to me. I was so incredibly glad. Midnight couldn’t come quickly enough to suit me.

 

**To be continued…**


	5. Depth of a Loch - Chapter Five - Phenomena

**Depth of a Loch**

**Chapter Five**

**Phenomena**

**Ianto**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

We’d prowled the city of Inverness, finding more knick-knacks as well as several books of poetry, two by Sara Teasdale. I left them back at the cozy bed & breakfast where we were staying the next four days so they’d not get inadvertently ruined. There was always the internet though…

“Listen to this stanza from ‘A December Day’,” I said as we pushed through a light drizzle on our way to the not-so mysterious spot Jack had planned this whole trip around. The top was up and the wipers moved at a sedentary rate. It was just a little past eleven at night. “Dawn turned on her purple pillow; and late late came the winter day. Snow was curved to the boughs of the willow; the sunless world was white and gray.” I raised my sight from my mobile and glanced at Jack.

“It’s lovely. She really had a lyrical way with words.”

“She truly did. Did you know that critics of the time found her work to be unsophisticated but full of evocative emotion?”

“I did not. Why don’t you give me your phone now?”

“I’m sorry but what?”

He glanced at me then back to the fog shrouded road. “Give me your phone. I don’t want you pulling up a trajectory course of where we’re headed.” He opened his left hand.

I thought about arguing that I would do no such thing, but in truth, I already had the Torchwood mapping program up and running in the background. With a hearty sigh, I slapped my mobile into his hand.

“Thank you.” He shoved the phone into one of the many pockets in his greatcoat then fell into humming along with “I’ve Heard That Song Before” while I turned to look out into the darkness. I felt rather lost without my mobile.

“Is there anything in your life you wish you could do over?” I asked as the song concluded and another, Tex Beneke singing if memory served and mine most generally did, began.

Jack laughed hard at that one. “We don’t have enough time on this trip to cover all the miserable things I wish I had a re-do for.”

“I’d have confronted my father about how he treated me instead of just leaving and never going back.”

Jack remained quiet for a bit. Tex sang on about a girl in calico. “You were young. I can see why you simply bolted.”

“Still, now that I’m a man, I continue to hide from him, from the memories. I need to stop hiding.”

I threw him a quick look. He was nodding. “Yeah, I think so too but we all face trauma in our own way.” He peeked from the misty night to me. “Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“No, no I won’t. I think when we get back I’ll nip over to see Mum. She’s been tidying and has a box of my grandfather’s trinkets.”

“Mm-hmm,” he said as we followed a soft bend in the road. “I remember.”

“I want to take Rhiannon and tell her. About me. About us.”

His sight darted to me. “If you’re sure that you’re ready.”

“Yes.” I nodded and stared out into the night, the wipers tracking over a dry windscreen. The rain was behind us now. “I feel as if I’m ready. She’s got to know. I want you to meet her, as my boyfriend.”

“I’d like to meet her as well.”

“Good. Okay then.” I felt a stone of worry lift from my back.

“Here we are.” We climbed out of the Austin Healy and looked down on Loch Ness, the full moon turning the surface of the freshwater lake a pearly white. “You don’t look surprised.”

I threw my lover a look. “I’m not. I’d plotted out several possible destinations from Inverness that would hold the attention of Torchwood. There’s the Culloden battlefield which is said to be haunted, Inverness Castle which also is reputed to have ghosties, and of course the Inverness Falcon Foundry is also rumored to have instances of paranormal activity, and of course, Loch Ness.”

“I should have taken your phone away back at the hotel.”

“Wouldn’t have done any good. I’d plotted all this out back in Cardiff.”

“Hmpf.”

“Indeed.”

“Well, what about this then? Does this surprise you?” He pulled a Frisbee-shaped object that glinted silver in the moon’s glow out of one of his voluminous pockets.

“It’s a harmonic disrupter.”

“Wrong!” He seemed to be rather happy I’d guessed incorrectly.

“That’s the only thing it could be. I’ve catalogued everything in Torchwood. It’s part of my job to know everything in the archives be it written word or alien technology.”

“Well, you don’t know about this one,” he gloated. I folded my arms over my chest. The air was damp and cold, the wet rocks dotting the infamous loch slick and shiny.

“Is it something from that wreckage in the States?”

“Nope.” He popped the P. Cheeky bastard.

“Then it’s not from Torchwood Three.”

“Yes, it is, it’s from our base you just don’t know about it because its designated H.O.T. which, you know, since _I’m_ handling it…”

I rolled my eyes to the now clear heavens. The smell of the loch blew over us.

“There is no H.O.T. category in the achieving system. I should know. I’m in that damn system daily.”

“Guess that’s two thing you _don’t_ know everything about Torchwood then, Ianto Jones, because this is from the safe. My safe. Which holds things that are H.O.T. or Head of Torchwood Only.”

God, he was smug. Sexy as hell with the soft moonlight touching his cheeks and flashing white off that movie star smile but still smug.

“Wouldn’t that be H.O.T. _O_. then?”

“It’s a silent O. Anyway, this is for you.” He turned it on and then held it out to me. I eyed it warily. I might not have much experience being a field agent, but I did know that you never touched alien tech, even if the man you loved was trying to make you do so. “It’s safe. Do you think I’d make you touch something that would harm you?”

“No.” I took the cool saucer. It hummed softly and pulsed bright green every ten seconds or so. “What precisely am I to do with this?”

“Throw it into the loch and follow me.” He started climbing down to the shoreline. I gave the saucer a throw and watched it sail out over the calm waters then slice into the surface of the loch. Jack was already a good distance ahead of me, so I rushed to catch up, going as quickly as the slippery stones would allow for safe passage.

“Now, we wait.” Jack sat down on a large wet rock about a meter or so from the water lapping up on wet pebbles. “Sit down. It might be some time.”

I sat beside him, shoulders up around my ears, as the damp air began to settle on my skin. “Are we doing a bit of monster hunting?”

“No, we’re checking in with an old friend.” He glanced my way. “Care to hear the story of how she got to be here on Earth?”

“So, the Loch Ness monster is an alien?”

“A damn big one,” he chuckled, his high spirits starting to infect me. I smiled and burrowed into my jacket more deeply. “The previous head of Torchwood Two, a cantankerous old bitch by the name of Regina MacDowd, called us in Cardiff one night back in the mid-fifties. Seems a rather big ship had crashed by the edge of the loch. By the time she and her team had arrived, the alien had exited the ship and entered the loch.”

“But there are sightings of the monster that date back to 565 AD,” I pointed out.

“You really did do your research. I do love that sexy brain of yours. Yep, but those sightings weren’t real. The real Beatrice didn’t exist until nineteen fifty-three. The forties and fifties were huge hotbeds of alien activity.”

“I thought her nickname was Nessie.”

“Only for the masses. For those of us who know her, it’s Beatrice. Or just Bea.”

“Okay, so Beatrice is an alien then and not some leftover aquatic dinosaur.”

“Exactly. And as part of our job, we heads of Torchwood are responsible for keeping track of every alien residing on the planet. And here we are! Waiting to touch base with Bea and building memories.” He nudged my elbow with his.

“And freezing. Don’t forget that.”

“I’ll warm you up after we check on Beatrice.”

I was about to ask what the hell one feeds an alien the length of a cricket pitch when the loch began to boil about thirty meters out. Jack shot to his boots, I did the same.

“Prepare to be amazed,” Jack said to the side as the alien’s head and long neck broke the surface. It was exactly as it appeared in all those botchy, shaky “images” we’d all seen, only far more beautiful. The loch water sheeted off its slick skin, giving the dark flesh a creamy white glow as it swam toward us. When it hit the shore, I stumbled back a bit, the size of the creature more than a little overwhelming. Jack looked over his shoulder. “It’s fine. Come here. She loves to be scratched right under her chin, don’t you?”

And then, he reached up to begin rubbing Bea – I was sure he’d made up that name - right along her jaw. A rumbling kind of purr rolled out of her making the small rocks and wet gravel under us vibrate. His touch did the same for me.

“She’s lovely,” I murmured when I stood beside him.

“Pet her. I need to get her treats out.”

I placed my palm on her long neck. It was cold and wet, the flesh slick like an eel. The large head swung back and forth, her humming purr growing louder with each pass of my hand. Water dripped off her steadily, wetting my hair and jacket, but that was the least of my worries. I was touching an alien. And it wasn’t trying to eat me or any of the other violent things that aliens have tried to do me during my tenure with Torchwood. Thankfully, it was also not a prisoner of sick bastards and being hacked up for rump roasts. The things we see…

“This is amazing,” I whispered to Jack.

“Yeah, it is.” He unwrapped a loaf of bread, balling the silver foil then handing the trash to me. “Watch this.”

I sniffed the air. “Is that banana nut bread?”

“It sure is.” He grinned then lobbed the loaf skyward. Bea snapped the bread out of the air and swallowed, her pleasant hum growing louder. “She loves the stuff. Here. You feed her. Just make sure to toss it and don’t try to let her take if from your hand. Lesson learned there.”

I didn’t ask. Better not to at times because some of the things that fell out of Jack’s mouth were best left go. I tossed the loaf high over our head and it was gone. We fed our guest six loaves of bread.

“Take this scanner and run if over her while I give her a goodbye scratch.” The palm-sized scanner I was familiar with. While I ran a beam of blue light over her Jack cooed and whispered to the massive alien. And she purred and made rumbling noises in return. Was there any living thing that could resist Jack Harkness?

“Done.” I turned the scanner off. Jack nodded. I placed my hand to her head as she slipped back into the loch.

“Turn your back,” Jack shouted then ran back about five meters. A flipper smacked the water soundly, dousing me. “That’s her way of saying goodbye…or something.”

I threw Jack a sour look as loch water ran off me in sheets. “You might have said something about that a little sooner. I’ll be frozen before we get to the car.”

“No, you won’t. I have a spot all picked out to warm you up on.” He held out a hand. I, it seemed, was as helpless to resist him as Bea had been. Eager to get warmed as only Jack could warm me I let him take control and fell in behind him.

 

**Acknowledgement to Sara Teasdale’s amazing poem, “A December Day”. You can read the rest and learn more about her here:**

<https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/sara-teasdale>

**To be continued…**

 


	6. Depth of a Loch - Chapter Six - Light and Dark

**Depth of a Loch**

**Chapter Six**

**Light and Dark**

**Jack**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

Sure, lots of people would say that petting an alien and feeding it banana nut bread is an impossible act to follow. Those people would be wrong. They’d obviously never seen Ianto Jones spread out naked and wanting on a RAF greatcoat. What a pity.

I placed a hand to his chilly stomach as I knelt beside him, my clothes strewn atop his. Our rendezvous spot was amid a clump of short, scraggly bushes. Sadly, we had missed the heather bloom. His skin twitched under my touch. The moon was high in the sky, its pearly light making his skin seem almost translucent.

“Are you going to get inside me tonight?” he asked, his voice low and thick as the fog slowly moving over the loch.

“You’re very pushy for a junior agent.”

“Chalk it up to intense sexual frustration.”

I spread myself over him, using my body heat to warm his damp flesh. He was greedy, hurried, hungry. His hands dove into my hair and yanked my mouth to his. Ianto was a kisser. He’d contently spend hours delving into my mouth, teasing, tempting, nibbling, and sucking my lower lip. I rubbed my tongue over his at the same time I rolled my cock over his prick. His inhalation was deep, his reaction instantaneous. His ass left the satiny lining of my coat to entice me to do it again. So, I did, repeatedly, gyrating and kissing him until he was pulling on me and pleading for more.

“Find the lube in one of the inner pockets,” I panted then slid down a bit, just low enough to take one tight nipple into my mouth. Ianto’s moan filled the cool Scottish air. I heard his hand hitting the ground, feeling for the small tin of lubricant I carried. What can I say? My Boeshane scout training has stayed with me…

“Here, here.” He dropped the tube onto my back then wiggled around under me until my mouth was back over his and my cock rested under his heavy balls. “Jack...”

“Soon babe, soon.” I sat back and slicked up. He lay beneath me, his chest rising and falling quickly, his hand already stroking his cock, his eyes on me as I feasted on the sight of him. I never tired of seeing him like this. Open, willing, trusting. “I’ll never hurt you again.”

“I know,” he replied as he reached for me with his left hand, eagerly trying to get hold of me and yank me into him. “I trust you.”

Three small words yet so important to me. I pressed into him before I said something stupid and ruined this. For once, maybe it would serve Jack Harkness to keep his damn mouth shut. Ianto grew more vocal the deeper I went. When I was seated fully inside him, his body hummed like Bea’s had. He was throwing off waves of heat and scent. Sex, man, need, love, desire, passion. I inhaled it all, pulled out, and then thrust back into him.

“Yes, oh! Shit, fuck. More, please…Jack, deeper.” He pumped his cock as I rocked back and forth, getting small yelps of pain/pleasure from the man each time I thrust my hips. He slid his feet around my neck. I grabbed his ankles and I loved him wildly. Ianto took all I had and asked for more. I came quickly, lost in hot slick man, my fingers gripping his ankles.

“Ianto,” I growled, his moans of completion mingling with mine. I let my head fall back and pushed as far into him as I could. So deep, so hot… joined so tightly and completely that I honestly didn’t know where Ianto ended and Jack began. Maybe we were a whole again instead of two halves now. Hopefully so...

With shudders still racking me, I slipped out from under his legs, my cock sliding out of him, and pulled him up to his knees. He was loose-limbed, still shivering from his own release when my mouth slanted over his. I grasped his bare ass, heaved him into me, and kissed him like a half-crazed and starving man.

“Jack?” His question was breathy. He had a tight grip on my hips.

“You’re the light in my life. I need you there, beside me, to keep the darkness at bay.”

“I’m not going anywhere. Not ever.”

I tipped us backward, me sprawling on top of him when we tumbled back to my rumpled, damp coat. Then I showed him again just how much I adored the way he illuminated my soul.

****

We cut our time in Inverness back when Archie rang us on day two. He was back in Glasgow with his lovely granddaughter and wished us meet her. Also, he had some interesting artifacts he’d acquired that he wished to pass along for further evaluation.

“Ah, an underground base. I was so looking forward to spending the rest of our time off in one of _those_ ,” Ianto grumbled the day we left Inverness.

“I promise we will not spend time underground if it’s not totally warranted.” Our bags were giving me difficulty. “These fit in coming here. How is it they won’t now?”

I gave the suitcases another rough shove. I half expected them to shove back.

“We didn’t have all those packages when we left home.” Ianto nudged me aside, took the bags, boxes, and bundles out of the tiny trunk and repacked things. When he was done he gave me quirky ‘Aren’t I Just the Cleverest’ look of his then gently shut the trunk. “I’m quite good at packing things.” I opened my mouth. The bells of St. Andrews began to ring. We had toured the cathedral just yesterday, marveling over the gothic design and the incredible wooden ceiling. “Don’t go there.”

I shut my mouth but smirked just a bit.

“If I ever move I’ll know just who to call,” I quipped and jogged to the driver’s side door of my car. “Are you coming?”

“Oh, yes, of course.” He hustled along then, looking a bit downcast. When we were a few miles out of Inverness, I chanced a peek. Ianto was deeply into that introspective place he goes.

“Did I say something or are you just tired?” I _had_ kept him up late last night. The man’s body is a delight I never tire of.

“Just tired, and a bit crampy.”

“I told you not to dare me.” I patted his thigh. His smile was warm but a bit distant.

“I didn’t think you could bend yourself into that position.”

“That’ll teach you to doubt my sexual and athletic prowess.”

“Oh, it wasn’t your sexual prowess I was doubtful of, it was being able to fold yourself into a pretzel shape and still be able to have sex.” He yawned and let his head roll back to the head rest.

“Where there’s a will…”

“Mm, yes. Mind if I nod off for a bit?”

“Nope,” I cheerfully said then turned up the volume on my one and only CD. I’d have to stock up when we got to Glasgow. While Ianto napped, I drove, the beauty of the landscape lulling me into an almost Zen-like place. This time away had done miracles for me, and Ianto as well. He was rested – for the most part – and eating better than he had in months. There was life and laughter in his eyes now. He looked healthy again. Sharp. His mind firing now on all eight cylinders as opposed to just five or six.

He slept all the way to Glasgow, waking only when we pulled up to our hotel – the same one we’d used previously.

“You should have woken me,” he said then yawned and stretched after we exited the car. His jacket and shirt hitched up, giving me a glimpse of the tender white skin of his stomach and a love mark right beside his navel. Seeing that sent a spear of lust through me. That little suck mark was just one of several he’d begged for last night. Maybe I could wheedle him into letting me kiss them all after we got to our room.

“You needed the rest. Speaking of sex…”

The eyebrows of the hotel clerk registering us flew up his forehead. Ianto and I sniggered as we took the key card. Once we were in our room I stripped him nude, laid him down, then pressed soft kisses to every mark on his body. We stroked each other off then Ianto fell back asleep. I read. The afternoon was close to perfection. I sat there beside him in bed, the covers tossed over my lap, listening to him breath and reading one of ee cummings’ poems.

Ianto had bought several tomes this trip. As cummings waxed on about loving to feel the spine and the bones of his lover’s body, I grew to understand that this sort of contentment and peace was not the norm. Not for me. And, as wonderful and heady as it was, it could never be. But maybe…just maybe …I could find a small parcel of serenity in the madness that was my life.

I shut the book and placed it on my thigh, then I ran my finger down Ianto’s spine as he slept. He murmured and stirred just a bit then drifted back to a sated slumber. Maybe it might be possible to have a tiny oasis – a Shangri-La – that would nourish me amid all the horror, darkness, and loss of our jobs. I traced his spine back up, my finger bumping over the knobs until my hand rested between his shoulder blades. The sigh that escaped me startled me a bit.

Perhaps…just perhaps… he and I could make something like this room – not the drapes or the furnishings mind – but the quietude and restfulness, back home in Cardiff. Maybe it was time to think about taking the last few things of mine at the Hub and moving them into his place. Doing that would officially make it “Our place”. Oh man, that was one _damn_ scary thought. Cohabitating was not a Jack Harkness thing. Hell, being a “couple” hadn’t been either. For years. And then Ianto Jones…

I stretched out my fingers, thumb and pinkie barely spanning the distance between his wide shoulders. He slept on. Trusting me to be here when he woke. And when I lay down beside him, I trusted that he would be there for me when I awoke, sometimes in the grips of a terror, other times slowly blinking back to consciousness. Ianto was always there. Steadfast. Loyal. Loving.

“Measuring me for a shirt?” he enquired, his face buried in the pillow, his long legs tangled in the sheets our lovemaking had tied into knots.

“Something like that.” I bent down to press a kiss where my hand had just rested. “Why don’t we shower and grab a bite to eat. We’re supposed to meet Archie at the Blue Pig in two hours.”

“Uhm, yes, food in the belly is a good idea.” He didn’t move though and I ended up having to shake him twice before we could share a shower.

After a light dinner, we found Archie at the pub, his beautiful granddaughter Keira, seated beside him. The Blue Pig was packed full. A darts tournament was taking place at one end of the bar while a small hen party was occurring at the other. Raucous male shouts mingled with the high-pitched giggles of the women. The ladies were keeping the old jukebox busy, feeding money into it at a steady rate. I’d just fallen into a deep conversation with Archie – who was keeping a lid on his intake – when Keira jumped to her feet, grabbed my coffee boy, and hauled him out to slow dance among the tipsy bachelorette party attendees. Ianto didn’t seem too upset to dance with the lovely ginger lass who had Archie’s brilliant eyes and deep laugh.

“They’d make a bonnie couple if he weren’t into the lads,” Archie commented. I slid my coat off and draped it over the back of Ianto’s empty chair.

“Well, he’s into both. Kind of like me but with a few more limitations.” I waggled a brow.

Archie studied me closely, his bushy red eyebrows gnarled. “I’m not thinking I’ll ever get the gist of _that_ but as long as you’re happy then who am I to judge?”

“Well said. So, how are the BSC Glasgow lads doing?”

Archie then launched into a diatribe about his favorite football team. Ianto and Keira returned and we all had a nice talk about sports. Then a song that I wasn’t familiar with came on. The women in the corner squealed and sighed.

“It’s Christina Perri’s ‘A Thousand Years’,” Ianto explained then reached for his glass of dark ale.

I pushed to my feet and offered him my hand. He blinked at me, surprise clear in those blue eyes of his. Then, slowly, he rose and let me lead him out among the girls slow dancing with each other. He stepped into me and I held him close. I had to smile at the women surrounding us, how they cooed and purred over the two of us. Shame the males in the establishment weren’t as welcoming. If looks could kill and that sort of thing. I’d stopped hiding my sexual tastes decades ago, and I wasn’t about to start now because a table of drunken bigots were glowering.

Ianto’s cheek brushed mine. The lyric about time bringing his heart to mine felt right.

“If you ever decide to burn me a CD, put this song on it,” I whispered into his ear then gently pressed a kiss to his neck. The song ended, we went back to our table, and finished off the pitcher of beer.

“Blokes coming in are soaked,” Ianto pointed out as we tallied up our tab. “I’ll go wave us down a taxi.”

“Okay.” I handed Archie some cash then pulled one sleeve of my coat up over my arm. “I’m heading to the boy’s room. Got to pee.”

Archie reminded me to stop by work. I assured him I would then gave Keira kiss on the cheek and nudged my way to the men’s room. It was elbow-to-elbow at the urinals so I waited and danced a bit. A stall opened and I ducked in. The thump-thump-thump of the jukebox vibrated through the wall. Once I had my bladder emptied, I washed up, shook my sleeves down, and then wiggled and pushed my way through the crowd to the front door.

Stepping out, a fine mist blew into my face. The street was slick and shiny, the sidewalk puddled. I glanced up then down, looking for Ianto standing by the curb or even perhaps already seated inside an idling yellow cab. There was nothing to be seen.

“Huh.” I shouted for Ianto. My voice echoed off the parked cars and buildings. I took a step left when an old powder blue Fiat 500 ripped out of an alley about fifty feet from where I stood, a shout of “fucking poof!” accompanying the squeal of worn tires on wet blacktop. A rivulet of fear washed over me. I broke into a run, heart now firmly in my throat. The license plate was bright yellow and moving out of view quickly. I caught the last digits – MIR90 – before it turned the corner and was gone.

Feet splashing through puddles, I reached the alley, nearly falling over my own boot as I tried to stop too quickly.

“ _IANTO!”_ I roared and raced into the skinny alleyway. My foot found his. I fell to one knee, hard, my breath leaving me in terrified, short gasps. “Oh, God, Ianto… no.”

He lay behind a dumpster, his head in a puddle of dark liquid that could only be blood…

“Ianto, no no no no no no.” I crawled to him. “Don’t be dead, don’t be dead, don’t be dead…” I threw the discarded cricket bat a look then gently rolled him over, just to his side. “Please, please, please be breathing.”

He was but it was raspy and weak. I nearly wept in relief then anger began to burn in my chest. Rage roared to life. Hot red fury unlike anything that I could ever recall feeling before. The bastards in the blue car…they’d done this.

I slid an arm under his head, mindful of the gaping wound and horrific amounts of blood, to get his hair out of a fetid puddle of dumpster drippings. I think I shouted for help. Probably I did. I must have as people soon appeared, some trying to take him from me. I battled them for a time until I realized they were the emergency responders. Then, and only then, did I allow Ianto to be removed from my arms.

“Come along, Jack,” Archie said, tugging me from the ground as Ianto was being tended to by the paramedics. “We’ll go on ahead.”

I got to my feet, my knee felt swollen and achy. It barely held my weight.

Waving Archie off, I limped down the alley, shoved my coat sleeve back – the gray-blue wool saturated with Ianto’s blood – and I flipped open my wrist strap. I wobbled into a wall, the world feeling off center and dark. So fucking dark.

“Tosh. I need you to run a license plate. Scottish. What time is it?” I looked at the sky. It was dark. Light rain hit me in the face. The lights of the ambulance rolled steadily and I felt ill. “I don’t know. It’s Ianto…no, what? He’s been – hurt. No, don’t come here. I just – okay, if you insist but that will just leave Gwen and Martha, right? God, I’m confused.” I ran a wet hand over my face. “Just…I know, we all love him. I’ll fill you in later just – what? Oh sure, the plate. Scottish. Last five digits MIR90. Make? Make of what?”

They rushed past, Ianto strapped to a gurney. He never moved or made a sound. I battled down the sick rushing up my throat. If he died…

“Oh, the car? Blue, light blue Fiat 500. I have to go,” I mumbled. “He needs me.”

 

**To be continued…**

 


	7. Depth of a Loch - Chapter Seven - 180 Minutes

**Depth of a Loch**

**Chapter Seven**

**180 Minutes**

**Jack**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

Three hours. One hundred and eighty minutes. I’d been in the same chair for one hundred and eighty minutes. People kept shoving cups of putrid coffee into my hands, talking to me, telling me things like he was young and he was strong. I knew all that. Yet, life was delicate. For most. What I wouldn’t give to use the leather strap on my wrist and simply whisk us back in time. Four hours. That would be all it would take. We’d go back, knowing what would happen, and avoid it. That was what time travel was for, right?

“This one of yours?” Archie asked, jarring me from my daydream for a second. How stupid of me to even think that way. As if I could walk into the operating room and scoop Ianto up. Oh, but how I wanted to… “Jack, lad? This one of yours?” Archie asked again. My gaze left the dark brown sludge in the mug dangling from my fingers.

“Owen,” I said then pushed to my feet. Pain shot outward from my knee, making me wince. Owen jogged up to me, looking and smelling like he’d just left his bed and an eager, if not somewhat intoxicated, woman.

“Got here as soon as Tosh called,” he said, his dark hair windblown. It was obvious he’d dressed in a hurry. His jacket was wrong side out and his polo shirt was backward. He pulled me in for a sturdy hug. “Any news?”

“No, not yet. They took him to surgery. Something about relieving the pressure on his brain.”

“Ah, yes, of course. He’s strong, Jack. I wager by this time tomorrow he’ll be sitting up complaining about the coffee.” He gave my neck a squeeze then stepped away. “I’m going to go flash my credentials about and see if I can get us some news. You need more coffee? “He jerked his rumpled head at the mug in my hand.

“No, God no.”

“Right then. Be back in a tick.”

I left Archie in the public waiting area to pace the private room that I had insisted Ianto be put into after surgery. It was small, white, aseptic, cold. I need time alone, to think and to plot. The door swung open and Owen slipped inside. He looked a little less tightly lined around the eyes. I prayed that was a good sign. He’d also stopped for coffee which I also hoped was a good sign. I was grasping at any sign now. Any sign at all.

“Right, here’s the latest. He’s out of surgery and in recovery. Things went well. Pressure is less now but there is some substantial bruising of the brain. They’ll be keeping a close eye on him over the next forty-eight hours but they’re cautiously optimistic.”

My bruised knee let me down. My ass hit one of two ugly chairs. “Thank God.”

“Yes, it must have just been a glancing blow. From the reports I bullied my way into, he’d put up a good tussle before getting walloped with that cricket bat. Contusions on his forearms indicting he’d blocked a few blows. Buggered knuckles indicating he’d gotten in a few good blows of his own.” Owen fell into an ugly green chair and gently removed the lid from his steaming cup of coffee. “I’ve been right rude to the entire staff, which is, as you know, one of my specialties, and I am now listed as Ianto’s physician, so no two-bit hack will come rolling in here asking questions without express written consent from me.”

“Thank you, Owen, for everything. Running up here, being obnoxious…”

“Pft,” he said into the steam rising from his coffee. “Being obnoxious is what I do.”

I bent over and buried my face into my hands.

“I’ll be right here all night. Tosh is flying in at dawn. Why don’t you go back to the hotel, get some rest and clean up? You’re a right mess.”

I lifted my face from my palms. My shirt, coat, and trousers were covered in blood. For some reason, cleaning it off felt like I was brushing the bloodlust committed against Ianto off.

“I want to see him first then maybe.”

“Good enough,” he said then stretched his long, thin legs out and crossed his feet at the ankles. “I’m fucking knackered. This energetic bird and I were enjoying ourselves when Tosh called. I’ve not slept since last night.” He then yawned widely. “What the hell happened, Jack?”

I told him what I knew. Time crept past. I paced and sat, sat and paced. Owen sipped, talked, snoozed, and then bolted awake when the door opened and Ianto was wheeled into his room.

“He’s more than a bit groggy yet. Either of you two gents Jack?” I nodded at the short woman in the pink scrubs. “Ah then, he’s been talking about you. Silly tales. Said you and him were off petting the monster of Loch Ness.”

“Must be some good stuff he’s on.” I gave her my widest smile.

“Dr. Owen Harper.” My medic chimed up as Ianto was gently rolled into place. “I’m the patient’s personal physician. I’ll just have a look at the surgeon’s report if you please.” He snapped his fingers.

The nurse gave Owen a cutting look then shoved a slim laptop at him. “Had his own doctor fly up from London? Must be someone important.”

“He is,” I said then stepped to the bed, my fingers lightly skimming the back of Ianto’s hand. He was pale, sickly pale, but that was to be expected with the blood loss. His head was swathed with white bandages, a bruise already creeping out from under the sterile wrappings to discolor his temple and cheek. “He really is.”

Ianto never moved, but his eyes flickered under his lids. Owen prowled the room reading the surgeon’s notes. I sat down in the chair Owen had warmed, my fingers still resting on the back of Ianto’s hand. The IV site was also bruising. That fair Welsh skin marred so easily. I felt like crying and breaking stuff. Or both at the same time. I did neither. Owen informed me that things could have been much worse. He also said other things. Doctorly things meant to placate and soothe.

“Can we be alone for a bit?” I asked in the middle of some one-sided discussion he was having about some of the possible side effects Ianto might experience when he woke up.

“Oh, sure, of course.” Owen pushed his fingers through his hair, which only made the mess worse, patted me on the shoulder, and then left me alone with Ianto and all the beeping machines he was hooked to.

“Remember that time our roles were reversed?” I asked, my sight locked on his chest as it lifted and fell. “I remembered what you had said when I was in that trance and so I want you to hear me say this, because I know you can. I love you. I want to spend the rest of your days at your side, in that ridiculously tidy flat of yours, spread out over that bed, loving you deeply and well. But for that to work, there has to be _two_ of us. I mean, sure, I can love myself and I do, but it’s much better with you there. So, make sure you come back to me. We’ve not fought so hard to get through so damn much only to let hate…take you – steal you – dammit. Come back to me.”

I lifted his limp hand and pressed a kiss to his scabby knuckles. Then I left. I had to. I needed to do something or I’d lose it. I blew past Owen talking up a skinny nurse. Archie met me at the elevator, the lines on his face considerably deeper.

“Where you off to lad?” He asked. I jammed a finger into the G button. “Jackie, I see two _powerful_ emotions broiling inside you, both deep as a loch. The first be love, the second hate. Don’t be doing something that will allow the hate to overpower the love, lad.”

I circled on him like a rabid dog who’d just had his tail yanked. “Are you telling me to just forget that some carload of hateful bigots nearly killed the man I love? Am I supposed to turn the other cheek, _yet again_ , when this kind of homophobia slaps me in the face? This happened because we were two men dancing to a slow song. That’s it. One dance.” I shoved a finger under his nose. His gaze dropped to our shoes. “We didn’t do anything but dare to express our affection for each other on the dance floor.” I shouted and didn’t care who may hear me. The blood on my shirt sleeve was still tacky. Tacky with Ianto’s blood.

“I understand it’s unfair but--”

“No, there is no ‘but’, Archie. Those pricks are going to pay for this. I want you to call local law enforcement and tell them that Torchwood is taking over this investigation.”

“Jack, lad, I ken that you’re upset but I’m not going to be stepping on their toes on a matter like this.”

“Either you call or I will.” I stepped up to him and tipped my head back, our eyes locking. “And if have to call I’ll follow that call up with one to the Queen.”

His eyes flared then narrowed dangerously.” You’re aboot to step over a line that you may not be able to dance back over, Jack.”

His warning tone didn’t scare me. “Do I look like I care? Now make the call. I want all the evidence gathered to this point handed over to Toshiko as soon as she arrives. I also expect her to be granted full access to the computers at Torchwood Two.”

“Jack, this isn’t the way to be handling a thing like this…”

“How would you suggest handling it, Archie? If that were Keira lying in the bed, brain swollen, clinging to life, what would you do? Just sit in that fucking chair and cry? Or would you be using every advantage you had as head of Torchwood Two to find the motherfuckers who hurt your loved one?” I folded my arms over my chest and pinned him with a withering look.

He exhaled long and slow. “You’ll have what you asked for Jack, but I expect to see the ones who did this brought to justice. I won’t cotton to you just killing them.”

“Just make sure Tosh has what she needs when she gets here.”

“Jack, killing them won’t make things better,” Archie said, his finger rising to point at Ianto’s room. “Killing won’t heal that lad’s injuries.”

“No, but it will balance the scales and will get murderous monsters off the street.” I spun from him and stalked into the waiting elevator, the doors closing on his worried face. “They’ll get the same kind of understanding that they showed Ianto,” I told the empty lift, my gaze on the red numerals ticking downward.

 

**To be continued…**

 


	8. Depth of a Loch - Chapter Eight - Scarlet Dawn

**Depth of a Loch**

**Chapter Eight**

**Scarlet Dawn**

**Jack**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

 

I’d had to pause outside the emergency room entrance to catch my breath. A cramping wave of panic washed over me. Not about what I planned to do. Oh hell no. It was about leaving Ianto to do what needed done. What my aching heart and shredded soul was screaming for me to do.

My cell chirruped, rousing me from the anxiety that had been gripping me. It was Tosh.

“Toshiko, tell me you’ve landed and you have information for me.” I talked and walked, my car at the hotel, but Archie’s was parked right in front of me.

“I’ve hailed a cab and am rolling out of Glasgow Airport.”

“Go straight to Torchwood Two. You’ll be granted full access.” Using my wrist strap I popped the locks on Archie’s black Audi hatchback. He’d not be pleased to come out and see it gone but I doubted he’d hand over the keys so a little grand theft auto was my only recourse. “What do you have on the plates?”

“How’s Ianto?” She sounded winded. Probably she’d run through the airport, her mind gripped with grisly imagery.

“He’s – they’re cautiously optimistic. Surgery went well. He’s sleeping things off.”

She whispered something in Japanese. I bent down to hotwire the car. This would also piss him off but too bad. He could bill the institute for any damage done. Sure, I could have used my wrist strap but doing it manually felt better. It kept me from venting some blind fury upon the upholstery.

“What do you have on the plates?” I asked, phone clamped between shoulder and ear, as I removed the plastic cover on the steering console. It was then simply finding the wiring harness, pull aside the battery, starter wire, and ignition bundle, and stripping some of the battery wire. Then you twisted them together and off you went. Time Agents have all kinds of less than savory skills.

“Oh yes, the plates. I got one solid match. The owner of a light blue Fiat with the matching last five digits you gave me is one Malcom Murditch of 28 Eskbank Street.” I was intent on my work so merely grunted. “Jack? Are you with Ianto now?”

The engine rolled over. I sat up, spit out the tiny bit of wire insulation between my teeth, and slammed the car into drive.

“I had to step out for a bit. Owen’s with him.” The car thumped up over a curb.

“Jack, why are you not with Ianto right now?” I heard the concern in her voice as I peeled out of the hospital parking lot.

“I have to investigate this attack.” Sitting there and watching him possibly die… no. I just couldn’t do that. Action. Movement. Retribution. That was what I needed right now.

And then, before she could advise me to maybe not go find the fuckers who had nearly killed Ianto and stuff what would be left of them into sausage casings, I verbally plowed over whatever she might be about to say. “Stop by the hospital to get Archie. Tell him his car is missing but is in good hands.” I whipped around a car in front of me, nearly bouncing off the fender.

“Jack, I don’t like the deadly tone of your voice.”

“Tosh, just do as I ask.” I ended the call and plugged in 28 Eskbank Street into the Torchwood GPS. “Time to meet Malcom Murdich.” Traffic was light, thankfully, because my attention was now divided between the GPS, driving, and trying to remember where in all our bags and suitcases I could find my Webley.

*****

Malcom Murdich lived in a small apartment on the second floor of a rundown house. The Fiat was parked out by the curb. Gaining access to his flat was simple. A boot right under the shaky doorknob and I was in. Must be the shattering of the doorframe wasn’t enough to wake good old Malcom because I had to poke through the two-room hovel to find him, passed out on a bed with no sheets. He’d stripped down to his boxers. I bent down to lift a rugby shirt from the floor, saw it was blood splattered, and then dropped it. Malcom, as it turns out, is a heavy sleeper. I had to drag his drunken ass from his bed and punch him five times in the face before he began whimpering and flailing around.

“Fuck off you queer,” he spat when he finally got a good look at me. That comment cost him a few teeth. Then I pulled out my Webley, placed it between his eyes, and drove my knee into his gut. He lay on the floor, bloody and bruised, and started pleading with me. “Don’t please don’t…it was all a bit of fun. No harm right? I got friends that are gay.” He was British, Liverpool if my ear for accents was right.

“I doubt that.”

“Fine, I don’t. Who’d want to be near freaks like you and that fucking Welsh poof?”

That comment cost him a few more teeth. It may have also gotten him a broken nose. Malcom was a bold bastard. He dared me with a look to pull the trigger. I wanted to. So damn badly, but I had plans for him and his cronies.

“Who was with you when you assaulted him?” I asked politely. He spit in my face. The next time I asked after leaning on his wrist and breaking a few fingers, he decided to tell me what I wanted to know.

“Icky, Glob, and Deppers! My fingers…”

“You’re going to tell me where those three live, right now, or I’m going to break a few more fingers.” He wiggled weakly under me then began singing like a thrush.

“Go on now, I told you everything yes? You won’t kill me, will you?”

I knocked him out with the butt of my gun, hefted his ass over my shoulder, and threw him into the hatchback of Archie’s car. My cell was vibrating steadily as I tied his hands behind his back with the same ties Ianto and I had used for bed play. Checking the incoming call, I saw it was Archie, and let it go to voicemail. I didn’t have time to talk things over. I had three more bigots to round up and a drive to Loch Ness before the first rays of sun fell on Scotland.

*****

All four of them were kneeling before me, facing the loch, hands tied behind their backs, ankles bound, mouths taped shut, tears staining their faces. I’d stood before them a moment ago, the cold water of the loch slapping my boots, and loaded four bullets into my gun. Each one of them had cried even harder upon seeing that. I’d not said anything to any of them for the entire ride.

Now, with just ten minutes until sunrise, I planned to say just a few things before I shot them all in the back of the head and fed them to Beatrice. Not that she would devour them since they weren’t fish or loaves of banana nut bread, but I hoped she might gnaw on their bones a bit. Or shit on them. Either would be good with me.

“What are you feeling now?” I asked the four punks resting on their knees. “Oh, sorry, you’re unable to speak. Well, just nod or shake your heads.”

Whimpers only so far.

“Are you all feeling afraid?” I asked, walking slowly behind them, catching the smell of fear and metallic lake water. Blood also. Coming off me. I’d not changed yet nor would I. Not until they were sinking to the bottom of Loch Ness. There would be more blood to join the dark, itchy stains of Ianto’s blood on my clothing so why tidy up?

They all nodded and simpered.

“Good. I want you to feel what Ianto was feeling when you jumped him. When one of you took that bat out. Did he see it? I’m sure little pricks like you showed it to him, taunted him maybe? Or, are you all craven cowards and hit him from behind?”

They tried to talk.

“Doesn’t matter,” I quickly said, the wet gravel under my boots crunching. “What does matter is that you’re going to die feeling fear and pain. You’re going to die knowing that a poof like me was the one to put a bullet into your thick skulls.”

There was no point in worrying about labels or trying to explain the subtle variances of sexuality now. Gay, bi, onmi, pan, trans. People like this wouldn’t care about the distinctions. All they saw was someone different, and emboldened with religion nine times out of ten, they felt justified in striking out at men like me and Ianto.

I stopped walking behind Malcom. He was trembling and crying. I placed the barrel of my Webley on his head. His muffled cries grew louder. Intent on what was about to take place and needing to hear and see vengeance being delivered, I missed the quick sweep of headlights that signaled someone coming.

Owen’s shout broke through the eerie calm I was now feeling.

“Jack! Don’t you fucking dare!” I turned to look at him falling and stumbling down over the wet rocks. The same rocks Ianto and I had scaled and sat on, talking and smiling, just a few days ago.

“How did you find me?” I asked, my attention going back to the men who had bashed Ianto. “Fuck,” I sighed when my rage-infested mind coughed up the answer. My cell. All of us in Torchwood had tracking capabilities on our cells and earpieces. “I should have thrown it out the window,” I muttered.

“Right, well, if you’d done that you’d not have known that Ianto is asking for you.” He arrived on the shore, breathless and even more disheveled.

“He is?” Could I dare hope?

“Yes, well, he was. He drifted back off but he’ll want to be seeing you when he rouses again. Jack, this isn’t right.”

“They could have killed him,” I replied coolly, the barrel of my gun parting the hair on the back of Malcom’s dark head. “They tried. They tried and only by the grace of some gods somewhere they failed. They deserve to die. Men with such black hearts deserve to die.”

“Jack…” He took a few steps, I threw a glower to my right. Owen stopped dead and lifted those skilled hands. “I know you want to see them pay, and they will, but it has to be done legally.”

“Oh, this will be legal.”

“How the _fuck_ is executing four men legal?”

“It’s what Ianto deserves!” I shouted, my words rolling over the foggy loch.

“It might be what he deserves but it’s sure as _fuck_ not what he wants.” My eyes narrowed. The four men kneeling before me grunted and groaned in terror. “You know he’d not want you to do this, you know that. Ianto would want them incarcerated. He wants you with him, Jack, not in jail.”

“I’m untouchable,” I told him, but deep in my heart, I knew he was right. Ianto wouldn’t want this. He wasn’t the monster that I was. He was the one who _loved_ monsters. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The hand holding the Webley began to shake. “They need to die for hurting him.”

“You’re better than this, Jack.” Owen dared to take another step. His hand came to rest on my shoulder. A gust of wind blew of the loch, my stiff coat rustled slightly.

“Oh, ho, so you think! Trust me, this wouldn’t be the worst thing that I ever did,” I laughed demonically, the gun resting against Malcom’s head weaving badly now. “It would be the most justified though.”

“I doubt Ianto would think so. Be the man he loves. Be the hero he deserves.”

Owen gingerly reached around me and lifted my gun from my hand. Malcom fainted. I turned from the medic and the men who had just been saved by him, and scaled the slick rocks as a scarlet dawn touched us.

My gut was sour. How close had I just come? How damn close to returning to the man I’d been before. One pull of the trigger. That would have been all it would have taken and that man who thought only of himself would have been back with a vengeance. Huh. Vengeance. Guess Douglas Horton was right when he said, “When seeking revenge, dig two graves – one for yourself.” One bullet and the Jack Harkness Ianto loved would have been dead.

I was on the edge. I had to see Ianto. Now. Before I fell apart completely.

 

**To Be Concluded…**


	9. Depth of a Loch - Chapter Nine - Two to One

**Depth of a Loch**

**Chapter Nine**

**Two to One**

**Ianto**

(Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.)

Waking up took several attempts. The last few were accompanied with such a throbbing headache, I drifted back simply to avoid the pain. Finally, though, I pushed through the haze of blurry, drug-induced dreams and opened my eyes. The room was quiet, and white. Incredibly white. So white it made the pain in my head worse. My mouth was coated with slime, or so it felt. Sandy slime. Thirst made me try to sit up.

“Ianto, no.” Jack whispered, his hand coming to rest on my chest to press me gently back into the pillows. “No sitting up yet. What do you want?”

My eyes tracked around the room wildly. Vision was slow to come back online, aside from the white everywhere. Then, my sight, crazed as it was, settled on Jack. He was fuzzy at first but then my vision sharpened and there he was. Sitting right beside me looking rather like Hell warmed over.

“You look bad,” I croaked. He coughed gruffly, a sort-of laugh but not really.

“Like you have room to talk.” And then, he started crying. He folded over the bed, his head coming to rest on my thigh. His weeping was silent, but his broad shoulders shook with each shaky inhalation. Attached to wires and an IV, I couldn’t do much, but I did manage to place my hand on the back of his head.

“Jack…”

He shook his head. I rubbed a few strands of his dirty hair between my fingers. That took mostly all the energy I had.

“I’m okay.” He picked up his head, swiped at his face with the grimy sleeves of his coat, and then smiled. It was a deceitful smile though because even a nob who’d been waffled with a chunk of wood could tell he was far from okay. My hand fell to the bed, the vibration making me wince. “Would you like some water?”

“Please.”

He stood up and got me a drink. The straw felt funny on my lips and the water was tepid, but I sucked down as much as he would allow me to.

“Not too much. You might get sick.” I watched him put the cup back beside a tan plastic pitcher.

“Am I okay?” God above, my head hurt.

Jack sat down beside me, the bed only sinking a bit under his weight. He looked worn-down. Even that ever-present smile looked faded.

“You’re going to be fine.” He touched my face, my cheek, the one opposite of the thumping welt on my skull. Just the brush of his fingers but it was enough to soothe. “They’re going to keep you for another day or so, at the loud request of your personal physician.”

“Owen,” I said, vaguely recalling coming to once and having him hovering above me, talking to me, asking me if I could count his fingers or some such rubbish. I might have vomited that time. Seems I did that once during the long, dark sleep I’d just had.

Jack nodded. “Yes, he’s managed to turn the entire staff against him in less than twenty-four hours.”

“Must be a new record,” I mumbled, my eyes wanting to linger on Jack so badly but growing heavier by the second.

“Could be. Ianto, I’m sorry.”

I gently rolled my head on the pillows stuffed behind me. Opening my eyes was tough but I forced my lids up.

“For what? Was it you who gave my head a whack with a cricket bat?”

“No, no, of course not but…” He shuffled on the bed, his gaze darting to the window. “How much do you recall?”

“Mm, most of it.”

He looked at me warmly. “You and that photographic memory. I’m glad. You’re going to have to testify at some time.”

“Gladly.” My mouth was dry again. “Could I have more water?”

Another short drink was allowed. Jack tutted over me, tucking the covers up to my chin, folding the top of the sheet down then patting it, and generally being that mother hen Enid always accused him of being. It was quite nice. I liked him fussing over me.

“Ianto, Owen told me that you woke up and asked for me when I wasn’t here.” He stood at the end of my bed now, anxious, and edgy. I could see it in his stance and how tightly his shoulders were set. “I should have been here for you and I wasn’t. I should have been out there on the street with you and I wasn’t. Seems I keep failing you when you need me the most.”

“Failing me? I’d say it was the other way around more times than not.” I allowed my body to sink back into the pillows. Sleep was calling.

“We both think so highly of ourselves,” he scoffed. “Well, _I_ do most generally but I really failed you this time.”

“Jack, is this why you were so upset? Do you truly think you let me down in some manner?”

He didn’t reply, but his red eyes and set jaw was answer enough. I knew the man. I could read him rather well even with a concussion.

“Tosh is here, she’s working with the local police to expedite the investigation.”

That was such a sudden about face I felt woozy. “That’s nice of her.”

He bobbed his head, his fingers tightly gripping the short footboard. “She’ll be here within the hour. Owen told me as soon as we spoke I had to go home and clean up because I was frightening the children. Not that I’ve seen many children but…”

“I like Tosh.” It was all my muzzy mind could come up with.

“And Gwen and Martha have sent me about five thousand texts. They’re both worried about you.”

“Martha is anyway,” I said then realized how shitty that was to say. Jack flinched just a small bit. I exhaled and let my head fall back to the pillows, delicately to be sure. “That was poor of me. I just…I don’t know where to go with Gwen. She and I are - it’s complicated.”

“Life is complicated.” He touched my foot and my eyes left the ceiling to touch on him. “There’s so many thorny things we have to deal with every day. You and I, though, that’s not nearly as convoluted as it was. Ianto, there will never be anyone for me but you.”

I smiled, or tried. It was a weak attempt but Jack seemed to like it, for the corners of his lips turned up as well.

“I feel much the same,” I replied. He stroked my foot through the coverings.

“When you’re back on your feet, I’d like to maybe talk to you about your flat.”

“Is there something wrong with it?” Had it caught fire while I was out?

“Sort of? I mean, no, but…” He fumbled a bit. My head really hurt. If I rang for the nurse would they give me an aspirin? Or forty? “You’re in pain. Let me go get Owen.”

And off he went. And in came Owen. Who fussed and scolded and then told me to stop being a tut and listen to Jack for once.

“As if anyone who works for me will ever do _that_ ,” Jack commented.

He looked less tight now that Owen had been in and said a headache was to be expected, as well as nausea, double-vision, and a cornucopia of other fun side effects. I could think of worse things than seeing two Jack’s. Tosh arrived then with smiles and flowers. Bright yellow mums. She kissed my cheek, talked about Chadwick and how he sent his love and get well wishes. They lingered for a bit, Tosh and Owen, staying through lunch which was delicious even if it was Scottish hospital fare. They stayed until I started to blink off on them.

“Let me say goodnight to him then I’ll join you,” Jack said as he steered them to the door. “Or good afternoon, I suppose.”

“Sorry, that was so rude,” I yawned. Jack brushed my concern off.

“You’ve shot the man. I doubt you nodding off in his face will bother him overly.”

“Good point.”

He walked to the bed, leaned down, and pressed a kiss to my lips. A chaste one, but still it warmed me better than a sweater fresh from the dryer.

“Thank you for loving me, monster that I am,” he whispered over my lips. I tried to reach up to pull him in for a deeper kiss, but my pounding head stalled that idea.

“You’re not a monster, Jack, you’re my hero.”

“Just keep thinking that, babe.”

I drifted off right after his lips touched mine another time.

*****

My head kept us in Glasgow for another week. When Owen deemed me suitable for travel, Jack began packing. I felt considerably better, but still a bit sore where the bat had met my skull. If I stood too quickly I got a squicky feel in my stomach, but overall, I was ready to go home and resume my life. I’d deal with the legalities of the attack later. The nightmares it had spawned? They’d just be jumbled into the regular horrors that marched through my dreams from time to time like Canary Wharf and ice boxes filled with human flesh.

“I can’t find my other sock,” Jack said then dropped down to kneel by the bed.

“And you’re thinking it’s under the bed?”

“Maybe. I might just reach under here and find it by some magical means. I do some of my best work on my knees, as you well know.”

I chuckled. He was back, the Jack who smiled so much and made one dirty joke after another. But there were times that the humor seemed a bit forced. He tended to bother about a bit, but other than that, and the scabby shaved knot covered with stitches on my head, you’d have never guessed we’d been a victim of a hate crime. There were a few times when I’d glance up and he’d be staring at me in a far-off sort of way, his expression difficult to read, but those moments were rare. And I say _we_ because Jack had suffered as much as I had. Owen had told me how he’d tracked Jack to Loch Ness, how he’d talked him down from killing the gits who had bashed me. How if he’d been just a minute or two later…

“Well damn,” he huffed then got to his feet and zipped his bag. “I have no idea where it could be.”

“Maybe by the loch,” I tossed out as I placed my books into my bag. Reading was still a bit of a trick, but if I rested my eyes, I could read for over an hour. That too would pass according to Owen.

“Oh, yeah,” he replied, a lecherous smile taking over his face. “We did tend to get a bit flingy.”

“Flingy. Is that an American term?” I closed and zipped my bag then glanced at him.

“One hundred percent US of A,” he grinned the hustled over to grab my bag.

“I’m not exactly an invalid. I can bloody well carry my own--”

His mouth settling over mine calmed my snit. A hand came up to cradle my jaw. “I know you can, I just want to dote on you a little longer. Once we’re home you can go back to doing all the things you love like cooking, cleaning, picking up after me, making coffee, chasing aliens, and satisfying my every sexual urge.”

“God, you’re so cheeky.”

“And you love it,” he replied then slung my bag over his shoulder. He gave the room a look. “I’m going to miss Glasgow, and Archie.”

“Archie won’t miss you,” I said as I pulled on a light jacket and worked to zip it. The head of Torchwood Two had flown into Jack and still refused to talk to him.

I had a bit of an issue with my zipper then, looking down for so long set my head to spinning slightly, and I muttered a curse.

“You got that?” Jack asked, ignoring the comment about the still angry head of Torchwood Two. I sniffed in aggravation then jerked the zipper up. “Good man. Okay then, I think we have everything aside from that missing sock. We ready to go home?”

“I am. I miss my flat and the Hub. I can’t imagine what the coffee station looks like. Probably no one thought to clean a damn thing in my absence and--” Jack chuckled.” What?”

“You going on about the coffee station.” I shrugged. Jack pulled the door open and stepped out into the hall. “Maybe the next time we travel we can stay here again.”

“Maybe the next time we travel we should let a travel agent pick the destination. First trip I chose and you ended up dead in a bog. This trip you picked and I almost ended up dead in an alley.”

“Hmm, yeah, I _do_ see a disturbing pattern. Travel agent it is!”

I followed him into the corridor and shut the door behind us. Another round of ‘Jack versus The Suitcases’ was imminent.

“I’m really glad to be going home with you.” He leaned in, stole a quick kiss, and then jogged off with most of our bags dangling off his arms and shoulders.

“I’m glad to be going home with you too.”

 

 

 

**The End**

 

***sighs* I do adore these two.**

**Next up we’re going to have another “Day in the Life” one-shot followed by “White Pestilence”.**

**Thank you so much for reading along.**

**Yours in fiction—**

**Feral**

 


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